


underneath this skin there's a human.

by hyzkoa



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Gen, only platonic tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:51:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8741332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyzkoa/pseuds/hyzkoa
Summary: Kalluto's fixation on their brother feeds their determination to bring him back and the delusion that he was forcedfully taken away. However, upon meeting Killua's peculiar friend, opinions slowly change and their feelings waver.Truth is, they've always wanted a loving brother.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i love kalluto they deserve more.  
> also i use they/them pronouns bc of the ambiguity of their gender.

The bay of the island, filled with joyous residents and visitors merging into one unidentifiable crowd, overflowed with nothing more than a radiant happiness accompanied by the bright but gentle sun shining down the pavement and the pleasant sea wind caressing the island streets.

If Kalluto had to describe the place and its atmosphere with one single word, it would be vibrant and ridiculously so. The amount of energy that oozed from the place could almost be considered annoying, but it was hard to label it as such. Annoying were the busy streets of Padokia, the people at the entrance of the Heavens Arena and the girls – with their hands full of bags of different colors – talking obnoxiously loud and clicking their high heels with every step they took down the street as they visited every store in Yorkshin. This place, however, with all its seemingly energetic population was far from annoying. It’s warm, they thought, leaving the ship they sneaked onto, using a mixture of the crowd debarking and their own Zetsu skills to pass unperceived; their illegal boarding of the ship overlooked by those who lacked skill. Their aura would only be released from its concealed state once they deemed it a safe distance from the bay, but still hid carefully through the rural streets of the island.

In their way, they had yet to see the reason – their target – of their visit, which gained nothing whatsoever from their composed nature. They are patient, tolerant, and know how to endure – that’s what they’ve been doing their whole life, after all.

Thirteen years may not be much, not in the eyes of many experienced hunters, but the style of their upbringing doubled—no, tripled their mental age from their physical one. That’s what they believed, that’s the way it had to be. A childhood was labeled as a waste of time (nothing but an unreachable brief dream they’d wake up from too early in the first signs of dawn) by their relatives, replaced without an explanation – because none was needed for an assassin – with training sessions and tortures that had yet to meet an end to this day. They knew it still wasn’t over, and the moment they stepped again into that mansion they’d be met with what had become a usual routine in their family.

A throughout search of the entirety of the island was to be done before that, though. It’d take a few days due to the density of the forest, but nothing they couldn’t handle. I hope the troupe doesn’t have any meetings any time soon, a fleeting unspoken remark as pink eyes left no details behind, their surroundings meticulously observed whilst walking calmly.

He had been here… He could be here right now.

The thought sparked a light of hope within them that was immediately controlled. The likelihood of their brother being here at the moment was slim, not impossible, but certainly low – in their opinion, at least.

But wouldn’t that be great? To find Killua right away in this place, to have him smile happily because he was found – as if they were just playing a more complex tag game to test each other’s skills – and returning home together. The troupe wouldn’t be needed, Kalluto could go back home.

“Useless.” Words, barked harshly under their breath, left a bitter taste in their mouth. No thought was spared to decide whether their sudden attitude was directed at themselves (their thoughts, their pathetic reverie, clinging into imagery of the possibility of both of them, Kalluto and Killua, together as siblings; a clear act of desperation and denial of their reality, for they knew he had returned for Alluka, his favorite, and for a moment… he wished Illumi hadn’t call them to inform them—remind them of what they would never be to Killua) or their surroundings. Their paper fan snapped closed in one hand. Certainly, their lack of skill regarding In was an obstacle for a quick search at the moment.

With silent steps they advanced, their sandals making no sound in absolute against the broken cement, grass leaking from fractures between each block, beneath them. Several plans were already in the making behind the tranquility of deep pink eyes: it would be the best to spend the little money they’ve brought with them – a ticket to the island saved by their ability to pass unperceived by the ship’s guards – in only the necessary amount of water. Food wasn’t a priority, neither was the commodity of a bed.

Eyes scanned the area they encountered themselves in. Little to no business, mostly houses that weren’t neatly packed against each other – with such a small population it wouldn’t be the worst of their options to rest in the wide alleys between the houses – yet the activity in the streets and loud but short exchanges held from the windows of each house made it all seem as if they were in a highly populated commercial district.

“—!”

A foreign weight was applied onto their small frame, snapping them out of their thoughts.

* * *

Fruits and vegetables and two cartons of milk were all shoved into a large paper back, and then exchanged for a handful of bills. He overpaid again. But the change was refused, a hand ascending (waving back and forth in a dismissive way, yet when the boy did it, it was anything but contemptuous) to catch the man’s eye, “Keep the change!”

The seller couldn’t insist otherwise, no one could go against the boy’s stubbornness for more than a minute, at most, before giving up; a laugh was all he offered in his acceptance of his daily loss against the boy’s spirit. “Say hi to Mito for me, will you?” A smile cracked onto the man’s otherwise stoic face, the kid’s own excitement undeniably spreading onto whoever stood then nearest.

“Mn!” An energetic nod followed then by words and actions that spewed the same level of vitality, “I’ll see you later, old man!” As he briefly jogged backwards away from the man’s store, his spare hand extended out to wave him goodbye.

And just as he was about to turn around, he collided into someone else.

Gon quickly retrieved his balance – a hand gracefully caught the few fruits that had jumped out of the bag upon the impact, to shove them in their place again – and so did the other, who lost no time in adopting a stance ready to fight back, one slender arm held out to wield their paper fan like a knife – he doubted it hadn’t been used like one before – pointing at Gon’s throat. The dark robes, the short but soft-looking crown of hair and the sharp eyes that pierced holes into him were all familiar. The connection between memories and the one that stood menacingly – but still smaller than him – in front of him was made quickly, expression changing from one ready to apologize to a neutral one. Though, a light frown was clear in features.

None of them spoke for what felt like hours. Passersby had come to a halt around them and the previous seller was tempted to step out of his store – intentions clear on his features, all of them either worried of what unfolded in the middle of the street; a stranger with seemingly hostile intentions towards the island’s dear boy, or curious of the unusual glimpse of conflict that broke the peaceful monotony the island was known for. Though, once a considerable amount of the public’s attention had been drawn, the paper fan was withdrawn, hidden along with arms that disappeared into the long sleeves of their dark kimono.

The tension dissipated along with the people, leaving in small crowds and returning to their routines. Gon gave nods and sheepish smiles to those who approached him in worry, a hand scratching the back of his head as he assured them that there was nothing wrong. He knew the kid, there was nothing to worry about, and this was just a little game between Hunters. The relation with the word itself seemed to be enough of an answer and such was the case more often than he had imagined; the utility of being a Hunter wasn’t limited to the license and the various laws one could avoid or break with it, not at all. Just mentioning it seemed to be a viable pass for any kind of behavior for anyone that was an outsider to that kind of world.

No wonder people like Hisoka were allowed to pass the test.

His expression shifted again as no more islanders took their time to show their concern face to face. “Why are you here?” While his tone was harder than the one used with those around him, those he had been raised with, it still had an innocent, harmless curiosity to it.

Kalluto covered half of their face, big eyes perfectly framed between even black bangs and the white paper fan.

The other’s silence was interpreted as a kid’s reluctance to speak to a stranger, and Gon was ready to chime in again before Kalluto gave in, “I’ve come to bring my brother back.”

Brows furrowed once more. “Killua doesn’t want that.” Gon noticed a change in Kalluto’s expression, but he couldn’t exactly discern what was it; the low cut of their bangs hid brows and the paper did its job to enhance the air of mysteriousness around them, topped by the perfect control – or their speed at gaining it – over their emotions gave as result what people could see as an indecipherable being. “—But he’s not here.” Yet, the brief glint in their pupils was enough for him to read them.

Gon interpreted Kalluto’s stare as their way to read whether or not the taller one was lying. He spoke once again but was swiftly interrupted, “He—”

“Where is he?”

Silence followed. Their patient persona seemed to have broken, easily so.

“I don’t know. We–” Gon was the first to break the contact, head turning towards the direction of the bay, “—went different ways. He’s with Alluka—”

“ _I know_.”

“You came here to look for him?”

Once again, their answer was delayed… if there was one, at all.

The arm that held the paper bag against his torso tightened his grip before he resumed his long interrupted route, only walking a few feet past the smaller one before turning around again, head tilted slightly.

“What are you doing?” In that innocent, bare tone of his, the inquiry rolled out of lips. He then patiently waited for an answer, dark eyes looking expectantly at the back of the other’s thin frame. They barely turned their head to peek over their shoulder, which made Gon’s own shoulders drop in an exaggerated sigh.

“You’re looking for hints, right? My home should be the best place to look for any traces of him.”

* * *

It was clear in Kalluto’s mind that there were not to lose any time in that island; a quick yet thorough search would surely give them the results they wanted, for the hints they looked for wouldn’t be hidden in the most unexpected places. After all, there was only one place in the small island where their brother would’ve stayed, and that was the very same house they were being guided to.

If possible, they would’ve avoided the encounter they had with Gon. Sneaking into his house to retrieve what they needed sounded far better than following him on the dirt path that extended itself across the land, leaving behind many houses to head towards the cliff where one lonely construction sat. Kalluto’s disappointment on using Gon almost as a tour guide only grew when they felt glad that this is how things had turned out; a house that isolated from the population wouldn’t be an impossible target, but even if no ounce of Nen came from the boy before them, Kalluto could still feel something dangerous oozing from them. It was certain their senses, enhanced by the environment he grew up in, would spot someone that contrasted so aggressively with the brightness and liveliness of the place itself.

Fingers tightened around their paper fan, lips pressing into a line. It would be a hard target, but not impossible. They had talent for stealth, and were a skilled assassin . . .  Now, the urge to prove that – maybe to no one, but themselves; the inner voices that told them otherwise – itched their limbs as they calmly followed Gon.

He seemed to have noticed something, but ignored it, turning his head to look forward again.

Kalluto frowned.

There was no time for them to hoard more doubt and distrust from what they already had towards the boy, as thoughts were interrupted; Gon yelled a name, a hand shooting upward to wave before he ran off the path.

“Mito-san!” He bounced towards the woman in an apron, his voice now barely more than an indistinct murmur from the distance he had put between him and his _guest_.

Kalluto observed, not stepping an inch off the path they had followed until now. The scenery caught their attention; so far, all they had encountered was a town full of bright, welcoming people that seemed to not mind visitors at all, and that hadn’t received much of their attention in particular. While this place was everything that Kukuroo Mountain wasn’t, it didn’t mean Kalluto felt any curious or attracted to the warmness of the sun on their skin (which would be blocked by thick clouds back in their home) or the freshness of the air combined with the smell of the sea. All those details would be shoved to the back of their head, overshadowed by the importance and urgency that brought them there in the first place.

Yet, that all changed.

The scene of a woman letting the clothes dry on the sun wasn’t weird or out of this world, but out of the two kids outside, only one of them had the privilege of seeing that everyday – the other couldn’t even see something similar fit into any space of their small, cold world of muted colors and bloodshed (not only of their targets, but their own as well). TV wasn’t allowed and they had no particular interest to it. The shows their mother would indulged on had nothing like such and their targets were most often grown men and women in clubs, bars, etc. which made it all the less likely for Kalluto to ever have seen something similar before. Hence, they had been naturally drawn closer in curiosity. The contrast between what they knew and the island was clear from the moment they descried it from the distant ship, but now it captivated them; a mother (they assumed) tending a variety of clothes of different colors beneath the soft but bright sunrays.

The perfect image, worth of being painted and framed in an equally warm home, was interrupted. Gon ran into the frame to greet personally who Kalluto assumed was his mother. The intrusion didn’t ruin the simplicity of the scene, if anything it only added to the motherly charm of it.

Kalluto’s shoulders flinched slightly in surprise; Gon had drawn the woman’s attention and directed it towards Kalluto and they, a professional assassin, were caught off guard by the smile and waving she offered them. Kalluto hesitantly returned it, promptly looking away and hurrying to the door.

* * *

Kalluto was displeased, that much was obvious. But that didn’t seem to be enough to stop the boy’s family from treated them like a guest. While the woman, that turned out to be Gon’s aunt, finished the laundry and hurried inside to prepare snacks for them, Gon’s grandmother took it upon herself to make their guest feel as welcomed as possible.

“So, Kalluto-chan is another one of Killua-chan’s siblings?” The grandmother had said whilst placing the tray with warm teacups on the table. The change wasn’t obvious – cold, precise and cynical, that’s how an assassin must behave –, but the fact she said ‘another’ made them pay more attention to the conversation. Kalluto took a sip of the offered tea, and while their assassin training did keep them from giving out any information about their intentions in their reactions, it didn’t prepare them for the warmness of the liquid in their mouth. Surely, Gotoh’s tea was ten dozens times better, with finer ingredients and such, but there was something about the drink that caught them off guard. Maybe it was the same as everything else in this place; it was unexpectedly domestic and comforting, something Kalluto wasn’t used to.

“If I remember, Killua has three siblings, no?” The elder lady said, looking at Gon to make sure she remembered right.

“Four.” Kalluto cut in.

“I see. What a big family. You seem smaller than the other one, are you the youngest?”

And with that, it clicked. _Gon did lie_. That comment made Kalluto understand many things at once; Killua was there – or had been there, not too long ago. Somehow, they knew of Alluka and it couldn’t be through family pictures, since of her there were none. Killua presented her to them after using her. Though, all of that impassiveness and stoic demeanor flickered for a second and it was enough for Gon to catch it and puncture through the thread of thoughts that were already antagonizing him once again.

“Killua sent post cards!” Of course, that didn’t help.

The assassin jumped out of the chair, walking without an ounce of hesitation towards the staircase as if they knew completely the layout of the house, heading straight to Gon’s room. He yelled for them to wait, but that didn’t work, neither. Any sound was blocked out by the determination of a killer and a longing sibling.

Gon his grandma behind, confused, wasting no time in explanations as he dashed after Kalluto, who looked around the doors in the hallway, seizing the one they deemed to be Gon’s room as it matched the position with the window they had seen outside. They entered the room with any hint of second thoughts.

Pink eyes quickly extracted every inch of information they could as they pierced and hovered over every item that gave the room personality, looking for a post card. It wasn’t on plain sight. Before hands could imitate the action of eyes and look _through_ the other’s belongings now, Gon reached the room and put himself between Kalluto and the drawers of his desk. _Terrible job at keeping the location of the card a secret_ , Kalluto thought.

“Get out of my way.” They didn’t question the other’s lie, which was already forgotten as their target narrowed to a single location. Bangs casted an intimidating shadow over big eyes as their tilted their head forward in the slightest, gazed fixated on brown eyes in something similar to a staring contest; both measuring the other’s will through their gaze.

The paper fan was raised to their face and delicate fingers gripped it tightly, ready to throw the boy’s nenless body out of the window if needed be.

“What are you going to do once you have it?”

“That is none of your business. I won’t repeat myself”

“He doesn’t want to be found. Not by his family.”

Kalluto gritted their teeth behind the fan, eyes closing to control the thirst for blood that easily poured out of their aura. Gon, someone who had been exposed to the blood thirst of an infamous magician and a hell-like creature, didn’t seem to be phased by it.

“I’ll _show_ it to you,” _I’ll have to steal it, then._ “But only if you understand that he left his house willingly.”

“. . .” Truly, they presented a stupid bargain that came from someone worthless of their time. A deal that wasn’t worth considering for more than a second. There was no need for them to partake in an exchange when they could easily take what they wanted from the other’s hands in a few seconds – even faster if the other was nenless. Yet, Kalluto remained motionless, quiet where they stood, those words actually triggering a reaction within them. _Only if you understand_ , he said. What was there to understand? That Killua didn’t think of them as family? That their presence was as good as invisible in Killua’s life? Or that they had never been validated by the brother they held so dearly to their heart? They didn’t want to. They didn’t want to understand that, they didn’t want to hear it. He couldn’t have left the house willingly; he couldn’t have come back only to leave with Alluka again. That couldn’t be the reality of the situation because then . . . then all of those interrogants that could be mere hypothesis became true. Kalluto was irrelevant to Killua. Illumi was the bane of his existence, Milluki offered casual help even in his NEET-like indifference and Alluka represented something positive Kalluto was afraid to label, for the sake of their own feelings. Yet, anything that Kalluto did didn’t affect him whatsoever. It was as if they weren’t part of the family Killua had so much disdain towards.

They weren’t hated like Illumi or tolerated like Milluki, even less loved like Alluka. They were just there, probably hidden in their mother’s shadow for Killua. And perhaps that’s the part that hurt the most.

Every sibling had a role, but them.

They lowered their head. “Shut up.” It was soft, barely audible.

“He’s somewhere else with Alluka because he wants to, just like back then. I didn’t take him away from you that time.”

“Shut up.”

“Even if you look for him, he won’t return with y--”

“ ** _Shut up._** ” They swung an arm out, slashing the air with their paper fan. Gon stood firm on his ground, regaining their stance quickly as a wave of surprisingly non-lethal Nen hit his unprotected body, even as his room was attacked, which only feed on Kalluto’s anger. The pink in their eyes seemed to be lit with the flames that burnt within them, the innocence of that color lost in a wrath that had been shunted to the back of their head for all this time, now finally awakened as the truth they had successfully avoided for three years was poured like cold water on them.

 _Gon Freecs_ . . . _He looks naïve and dumb at first sight, but he’s quite cruel himself_.

“I’ll show you if you understand.”

Kalluto did their best to keep their own posture as firm as Gon’s, their arm extended out to the side, ready for a second attack; yet in terms of who was able to stand more imposing against the other, keeping their true feelings hidden, Gon won by a landslide.

After all, he wasn’t the one who was having their buttons continuously pushed without any consideration.

With their head hiding behind even bangs, they lowered their arm, making no noise as they left the room. Their stroll was calm, composed, totally the opposite of the onslaught of feelings within them. As they headed downstairs and turned towards the door, the boy’s aunt was in the room. Any words she had wanted to say were shoved back down her throat the moment she got a brief glimpse of Kalluto’s face, the calm beauty she had been introduced to moments before now replaced with with wide, unblinking eyes fixated forward, a twistedness she – as a villager – couldn’t begin to describe as they passed by her and left the house.

_I’ll steal it._


End file.
